How an Infrared Audit Brought out the Rosie the Riveter in Me

I thought I had a pretty good handle on my house. I'm not a building science guru (at least not yet) but I live with one. And over the past few weeks, as we've spilled our energy using lives onto the Internet, I've become increasingly intrigued by how when and where we use energy. (Not only that, I've Twittered it).  And frankly, I thought I had a pretty good idea of what was going on.

Yesterday, Flemming Lund, an infrared diagnostic specialist spent 5 hours examining our house with the Xray vision afforded him by his infrared camera. What he found out knocked my socks off, and made me think hard about two things. First, I don't know my house quite as well as I thought I did. And second, I'm not going to sit around and let my hard-earned heated, (or soon, blessedly, cooled) air spill out into the front yard.

Here's what I hadn't seen coming: my daughter's room boasts a two-foot square area of her ceiling that is utterly void of insulation. Hollow. Without the infrared examination, I'd never have known. Here's what I was wrong about: I had thought that the hot halogen lights in our kitchen were the sole heat producing villains responsible for heating our roof, melting the snow that contributed to our ice dam. In fact, an uninsulated hot water pipe in our ceiling cavity provides an extra dose of heat to that same area, stealthily (and literally) flaming the fire.

The good news is really good. We have a to do list now. It's pretty long, but it's do-able, and I'm fired up. Most of the gaps, leaks, holes and problems pointed out to us can be dealt with properly with tools we have on hand: caulks, foams, and sealants. I feel like Rosie the Riveter. Give me my caulking gun. Those invisible demons have been found out, and I'm going to get them.